“Do you even realize my son is depriving himself of the last he has?” Alina Vitoldovna’s voice rang so loudly through the phone that Veronika had to move it away from her ear.
“What do you mean?” she asked calmly, though she already knew the answer. Alina Vitoldovna called with the same complaint enviably often.
“Vitya sends you huge sums for your daughter, and you can’t even provide receipts! Where do you put the money?”
Veronika took a deep breath and counted to five, as her friend had advised. Dawn was only just breaking outside, and four-year-old Lyuba was still asleep in her crib. Friday morning had gotten off on the wrong foot.
“Alina Vitoldovna, it’s six in the morning. In an hour I have to leave to take Lyuba to daycare and get to work,” Veronika tried to keep her voice even, though everything inside her was boiling. “Seven thousand rubles isn’t a huge amount of money. Do you have any idea how much children’s clothes, food, toys, and daycare cost?”
“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes!” the ex-mother-in-law snapped. “My Vitenka works like an ox, and you blow the money on God knows what! I demand an accounting of your expenses! All the receipts for last month! And don’t you dare wriggle out of it!”
Veronika closed her eyes. This was how almost every conversation with her former mother-in-law began since she and Vitya had divorced two years ago. Two years of freedom that turned out not so free after all.
“Let’s discuss this later, Alina Vitoldovna. I need to get my daughter ready.”
“You’re always dodging!” the mother-in-law wouldn’t let up. “Vitya says you’re all dolled up, bought a new jacket. With his money, right? With the alimony?”
Just then sleepy Lyuba came into the room clutching a plush bunny, and Veronika smiled gently at her daughter.
“I have to go, Alina Vitoldovna. Goodbye,” she pressed the end call button without waiting for a reply.
“Mommy, was that Grandma Alina?” Lyuba asked, climbing into her mother’s lap.
“Yes, sunshine. She… sends her regards,” Veronika lied, hugging her daughter.
Veronika remembered how it had all begun. Four years ago she married Vitya, truly believing she had found the love of her life. Tall, with attentive brown eyes and slightly curly hair, he had seemed perfect to her. True, even then her friends warned her: his relationship with his mother was a little too… unusual. But what enamored girl listens to sound advice?
“Get dressed, Lyubochka, we have to go to daycare,” Veronika kissed her daughter on the crown of her head. “Today is your favorite breakfast—cheese omelet!”
The workday dragged on endlessly. Veronika sat at her desk in the office of a construction company, going through documents, but her thoughts kept circling back to the morning’s conversation. Her phone buzzed—another message from Alina Vitoldovna: “I expect the receipts by this evening. If you don’t provide them, we’ll proceed through the courts. Vitya has the right to know.”
“Mother-in-law pestering you again?” asked Larisa, a colleague and the only one in the office who knew Veronika’s situation.
“As usual,” Veronika sighed. “She’s demanding an accounting for seven thousand rubles of alimony. Can you imagine? Seven thousand! I spend more than that each month just on Lyuba’s speech therapy classes.”
“And your husband what?”
“Ex-husband,” Veronika corrected her. “And what about him? The same as always: ‘Mom is right, that’s not a small amount of money, you have to report on it.’ Funny—when we lived together, he thought we didn’t need to spend anything on the child at all. ‘She’s still little, what does she need?’ he’d say.”
Veronika remembered how they had had to scrimp on everything when they were still a family. Vitya insisted she go back to work before Lyuba was even six months old. “What are you doing sitting at home? You’re not bringing money into the family!” And he gave all his salary to his mother “for safekeeping.” Peanuts trickled into the household budget.
“I still remember asking him for money for baby food,” Veronika went on, “and he’d say, ‘Shaking me down again? I just gave you some yesterday.’ And that would be five hundred rubles for the week! Good thing my mom helped out.”
“Yeah,” Larisa shook her head. “Why did you put up with it for so long?”
Veronika gave a bitter little smile. “I hoped he’d change once Lyuba got older. That he’d realize how important it is to take care of your child.”
At that moment Igor Semyonovich, the company director, walked in.
“Veronika Andreevna, come to my office in five minutes,” he said, and disappeared behind his door.
“What happened?” Larisa asked, worried.
“No idea,” Veronika shrugged, though her insides clenched. Could her mother-in-law have reached her workplace too?
“Have a seat, Veronika Andreevna,” Igor Semyonovich pointed to the chair across from his desk. “I received an interesting call. A certain Alina Vitoldovna claims you’re misusing her son’s money. What do you have to say?”
Veronika felt heat rise to her cheeks—both shame and indignation.
“Igor Semyonovich, I—”
“Hold on,” the director interrupted. “I just want to understand what’s going on. This woman called me twice this morning, threatened complaints and inspections. Said something about seven thousand rubles.”
Veronika sighed and briefly explained the situation. About Vitya, about his mother, about how they begrudged her every last kopeck—and about how she was raising the child alone, receiving minimal alimony.
Igor Semyonovich listened attentively and, unexpectedly, smiled.
“You know, Veronika, I have a daughter your age. She’s in a similar situation. I know firsthand what single mothers go through.”
He opened a desk drawer and took out a folder.
“I have two pieces of news for you. First: starting Monday you’ll be transferred to a new department with a thirty-percent salary increase. Second: our company has launched a support program for employees with children—flexible hours and partial reimbursement of daycare fees.”
Veronika could hardly believe her ears. “Igor Semyonovich, I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t say anything. You’re a good employee, and the raise is well deserved. As for the ex-mother-in-law,” he smiled, “tell her that if she calls again, I’ll have to involve the legal department to protect us from harassment.”
Veronika left his office with her heart pounding. Was something finally starting to change for the better?
That evening, picking Lyuba up from daycare, Veronika ran into Svetlana, Misha’s mom from Lyuba’s group. They used to be friends with Vitya as a couple, but after the divorce Svetlana was the only one who kept in touch with Veronika.
“You won’t believe this,” Svetlana began as they stepped outside, “yesterday I saw your ex in a new car. An SUV! Misha’s jaw practically dropped.”
Veronika raised her eyebrows. “A new car? He said he’s barely making ends meet…”
“Oh, please,” Svetlana waved it off. “Sergei said Vitya got promoted to department head. Now he makes three times as much.”
Veronika stopped dead. “What? And when did this happen?”
“About two months ago,” Svetlana shrugged. “You didn’t know?”
She felt a surge of heat inside her. Two months! For two months Vitya had been making a huge salary, yet he kept paying a measly seven thousand in alimony and had the nerve to demand receipts!
“Thanks for telling me,” Veronika squeezed her daughter’s hand tighter. “Lyubochka, we need to go home.”
That evening, after putting her daughter to bed, Veronika called her mother.
“Mom, can you imagine, Vitya bought a new car and got a raise, but the alimony hasn’t increased.”
Marina Pavlovna, Veronika’s mother, sighed. “I told you from the start he was stingy. And you were all ‘love, love.’ Remember how at the wedding his mother demanded we pay 80% of the costs? And how he counted every kopeck when you lived together.”
“I know, Mom,” Veronika sighed. “But what do I do now?”
“What do you do? Go to court, that’s what! He’s required to pay 25% of his salary, not those crumbs.”
Veronika thought for a moment. Maybe her mother was right. It was time to stop being afraid and start fighting for Lyuba’s rights.
The next day a new employee appeared in the office—Pavel, transferred from a branch in another city. Tall, with a friendly smile and attentive eyes, he quickly won over the entire team.
“Veronika, will you show the new colleague how things work around here?” asked Igor Semyonovich.
As she gave him a tour of the office, Veronika learned that Pavel was also divorced and had a ten-year-old son who lived with his mother.
“It must be hard not seeing your son often?” Veronika asked.
“It’s not easy,” Pavel agreed. “But I try to spend every weekend and holiday with him. And of course I help financially. Even when money is tight sometimes, a child is sacred.”
Veronika couldn’t help comparing him to Vitya, who saw his daughter once a month—and even then reluctantly.
That evening after work she stopped by a legal clinic. She spent a long time laying out the situation, showing documents, and listening to advice.
“So, here’s the plan,” the attorney, Elena, concluded. “We need proof of his new income. Photos of the car, witness statements about the promotion, statements—if you can get them. Then we file for a recalculation of alimony.”
“And if it doesn’t work?” Veronika hesitated.
“It will,” Elena said confidently. “I’ve handled these cases for years. Men often try to hide their income, but the court usually sides with the child.”
At home Veronika made an action plan. First, gather evidence. Second, talk to Vitya frankly.
“We need to talk,” she told her ex-husband when he came to visit their daughter on Saturday.
Lyuba was playing in her room, and they sat in the kitchen. Vitya looked prosperous: a new shirt, an expensive watch, an air of confidence.
“About what?” he glanced at his watch pointedly. “I don’t have much time.”
“About your new position and salary,” Veronika said calmly. “And why the alimony is the same.”
Vitya’s face changed sharply. “Who filled your head? Sveta, huh? She never minds sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong!”
“That’s irrelevant,” Veronika cut him off. “What matters is that you’re hiding your income and underpaying alimony.”
“You’re insane!” Vitya flared. “I’m already giving my last! I’ve got loans, a mortgage!”
“A mortgage?” Veronika repeated. “On a new apartment? Excellent! Another piece of evidence for court.”
Vitya jumped up. “What court? Are you serious? My mother was right—you’re only thinking about how to bleed me dry!”
“Not you—Lyuba,” Veronika corrected. “There’s a difference. And yes, I’m going to court for a recalculation. You’re obligated to pay 25% of your real income, not the crumbs you’re giving now.”
Vitya flushed purple. “That’s how it’s going to be? Then I won’t see Lyuba at all! Let’s see what you’ll say then!”
“Blackmail?” Veronika asked evenly. “Excellent, another point for the court. And yes, Lyuba needs a special speech class. Five thousand a month. Either you add that to the alimony, or we go to court.”
Vitya grabbed his jacket and stormed out without even saying goodbye to his daughter.
A week passed in tension. Veronika gathered documents for the court, worked, and tried not to let Lyuba see that anything was wrong. Pavel proved to be an excellent colleague and quickly became a friend—offering practical advice at work and support with the situation involving her ex.
“Don’t worry,” he told her. “The court is always on the child’s side. And if your ex really got a raise, he won’t be able to hide it.”
On Thursday, a message arrived from Alina Vitoldovna: “Vitya says you’re planning to sue. Think again while there’s still time. We won’t let you wring money out of him.”
Veronika didn’t respond. Messages like that used to throw her off balance, but now she felt a strange calm—as if she had finally stepped onto the right path.
On Friday she took Lyuba to a trial session at a speech therapy club. The little girl loved it, and the instructor said that with regular lessons her pronunciation issues would disappear quickly.
“Mommy, are we going to come here?” Lyuba asked on their way home.
“Absolutely, sweetheart,” Veronika smiled.
That evening Vitya called. “Are you really serious about going to court?” there was anxiety in his voice.
“Absolutely,” Veronika replied. “The claim has already been filed.”
“How much do you want?”
“Not me—the law. Twenty-five percent of your income.”
“You’ve got some nerve!” Vitya exploded. “I… you… My mother was right, I should never have married you!”
“On that we agree,” Veronika said calmly. “We shouldn’t have. We’d both be better off if it hadn’t happened. But Lyuba is our daughter, and you are obligated to provide for her.”
Vitya hung up. A minute later a message came from Alina Vitoldovna: “You’ll regret this. We’ll prove you squander the money on anything but the child.”
The court date came sooner than expected. Veronika was nervous but did her best to stay composed. Pavel had promised to support her and waited in the hallway while she was in the courtroom.
Vitya arrived with his mother and an attorney. They immediately began to insist there had been no raise, the car was bought on credit, and the new apartment was an inheritance from a distant relative.
The judge, Elena Aleksandrovna, an older woman with a perceptive gaze, listened carefully to both sides.
“Do you have proof of the respondent’s increased income?” she asked Veronika.
“Yes, Your Honor,” Veronika handed over a folder of documents. “Here are photos of the new car, which costs over three million rubles, information about the apartment purchase, and witness statements from the respondent’s colleagues regarding his promotion.”
“It’s all lies!” cried Alina Vitoldovna. “They’re conspiring against my son!”
“Order,” the judge said sternly. “Or I’ll have you removed.”
At that moment the door opened and a middle-aged man entered.
“Apologies for being late, Your Honor. Nikolai Petrov, the respondent’s colleague. I was called as a witness.”
Vitya paled when he saw him.
“You work with the respondent?” the judge asked.
“Yes, Your Honor. I’m his deputy.”
“And what position does the respondent hold?”
“He’s the head of the logistics department at our transport company. He was promoted two months ago, with a threefold salary increase.”
“That’s slander!” Vitya sprang up. “He’s jealous of me!”
“Really?” Nikolai asked calmly. “What about the company-wide email announcing your promotion? Or the office party for the occasion? Or your boastful stories about your new salary? Your Honor, I have a copy of the promotion order.”
The judge studied the document carefully. “So your real income is 140,000 rubles a month, not 28,000 as stated on your declaration?”
Vitya stared at the floor and said nothing.
“Your Honor,” Nikolai continued, “I’d also like to add that the respondent repeatedly said at the office that he was intentionally hiding his income to avoid paying alimony. He said his ex-wife ‘doesn’t deserve his money.’”
Alina Vitoldovna jumped up. “All lies! My son is an honest man! That woman”—she pointed at Veronika—“just wants to profit off him!”
“One more disruption and you will be removed from the courtroom,” the judge said sharply. “I have sufficient evidence.”
Two hours later the court ruled to increase the alimony to 35,000 rubles per month and to recover the arrears for the two months during which Vitya had concealed his income.
Leaving the courtroom, Veronika felt strangely hollow. There was no joy, no sense of triumph—only relief that it was over.
Pavel was waiting for her in the corridor with a bouquet of daisies. “Congratulations! I knew justice would prevail.”
“Thank you for being there,” she smiled. “I wouldn’t have had the courage without you.”
They walked out of the courthouse together. Outside, an unexpected encounter awaited them—Vitya and his mother were standing by their car.
“Happy now?” Vitya asked bitterly. “Got what you wanted?”
“It wasn’t me,” Veronika replied evenly. “It was the law. And the money isn’t for me—it’s for Lyuba. For her education, development, health.”
“And who’s this?” Alina Vitoldovna jerked her chin toward Pavel. “Already found yourself a new sponsor?”
“He’s my friend,” Veronika said. “And unlike some people, he understands that children are a responsibility, not a burden.”
“And who are you to lecture me!” Alina flared up. “He’s my son! I raised him! And all you do is bleed him dry!”
“Ma’am,” Pavel said calmly, “don’t you think it’s precisely that attitude toward money you instilled in your son? That money matters more than relationships, more than a child?”
Alina was speechless with indignation, and Vitya unexpectedly lowered his head. “Let’s go, Mom. It’s already decided.”
They got into the car and drove away, while Veronika and Pavel headed off to pick up Lyuba from daycare.
Three months passed. Veronika received another promotion at work and could now afford a more spacious apartment. Lyuba kept up with her speech therapy and was making progress—her speech was getting clearer.
Vitya paid the alimony on time, though he didn’t try to see his daughter more often. And Alina Vitoldovna stopped calling and demanding reports, as if she had finally understood the futility of her claims.
One weekend Veronika, Lyuba, and Marina Pavlovna were relaxing in the park. Pavel and his son Misha joined them; over these months they had become frequent guests in their home.
“Mom, look, Daddy’s coming!” Lyuba suddenly cried, pointing down the path.
Indeed, Vitya was approaching. He looked unusually unsure of himself.
“Hi,” he said, stopping in front of them. “I… wanted to talk.”
Marina Pavlovna pressed her lips together but kept silent. Pavel gave Veronika an understanding nod and took the children to the rides.
“I’m listening,” Veronika said.
“I wanted to apologize,” Vitya said unexpectedly. “You were right. I was… wrong about Lyuba. And the money.”
Veronika raised her eyebrows. “What changed?”
“I met a woman,” Vitya admitted. “She’s raising a son on her own. And I saw how hard it is. I also talked to a psychologist. He explained a lot about my relationship with my mother and… anyway, I want to be a better father to Lyuba. Can I see her more often?”
Veronika didn’t know what to say. She had imagined this conversation so many times, but now she felt at a loss.
“Of course you can,” she said at last. “Lyuba will be happy. She misses her dad.”
Vitya nodded gratefully. “And… I’d like to pay for all her classes. Not just the speech therapy, but anything else she likes.”
“What will your mother say?” Veronika couldn’t help asking.
“Nothing,” Vitya smirked. “I finally learned to tell her ‘no.’ Time to grow up, right?”
Veronika nodded. She felt neither love nor hatred for her ex—only a calm understanding that things had changed and life was moving on.
Just then Pavel returned with the children. Lyuba ran up to her father, and for the first time in a long while he hugged his daughter sincerely.
“Daddy, did you come to visit me?” Lyuba asked.
“Yes, sweetheart. And I’m going to come often. Very often,” Vitya crouched down, looking his daughter in the eyes. “If you want, we can go to the zoo next weekend.”
Lyuba’s face lit up. “Really? Can Misha come too?”
Vitya glanced uncertainly at the boy standing next to Pavel. “I think we can arrange that,” he said cautiously, shifting his gaze to Veronika.
“Great idea,” she smiled. “It’ll be more fun for the kids together.”
Marina Pavlovna, watching the scene from a bench, said quietly, “Well, finally he’s come to his senses.”
Veronika walked over to her mother and said softly, “People can change, Mom.”
“Let’s hope it lasts,” Marina replied skeptically, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes.
A week later Vitya did, in fact, take Lyuba and Misha to the zoo. Veronika could hardly believe the change, but slowly she began to trust her ex again. Not only did he pay alimony regularly, he also offered extra help—he paid for the art class Lyuba had long dreamed of, bought a new bed and toys.
One evening, as Veronika was tucking her daughter in, Lyuba suddenly asked, “Mom, why doesn’t Grandma Alina call anymore? Is she mad at me?”
Veronika sat on the edge of the bed. “No, darling. Sometimes adults have trouble communicating. But if you want, we can call her.”
“No,” Lyuba shook her head. “She always yelled. I didn’t like it.”
Veronika kissed her on the forehead. “Sleep, my love. Tomorrow will be an exciting day.”
A few days later Veronika ran into Alina Vitoldovna at the store. She braced for an unpleasant exchange, but the mother-in-law merely gave a curt nod and walked past. It was strange yet liberating—as if a heavy chapter of life had finally closed.
Work was going great. Veronika headed a new project, and Igor Semyonovich didn’t skimp on praise. Her relationship with Pavel grew into something more than friendship, though neither of them hurried things along.
At the end of summer, as Lyuba was getting ready to enter the preparatory group at daycare, an unexpected call came.
“Veronika, it’s Vitya. I wanted to talk about Lyuba’s future.”
“Did something happen?” she asked, wary.
“No, everything’s fine. It’s just… Natasha and I decided to get married. And I thought we should discuss how that will affect Lyuba.”
Veronika felt an odd calm. Six months earlier, news of a new woman in her ex’s life would have made her anxious, but now she was glad Vitya had found happiness.
“Of course, let’s discuss it,” she agreed. “It’s important for Lyuba to know she has family on both sides.”
They met as a trio—Veronika, Vitya, and his fiancée Natasha, a pleasant woman with kind eyes. They discussed the best way to introduce Lyuba to the new family, how to handle holidays, and how to resolve potential conflicts.
“I’m glad you met a good person,” Veronika said sincerely as they parted.
“And I’m glad you found the strength to fight,” Vitya replied unexpectedly. “Otherwise I would’ve stayed a mama’s boy who doesn’t understand the value of family.”
September first dawned sunny. Veronika, Pavel, Vitya with Natasha, and Marina Pavlovna stood in the park watching Lyuba and Misha ride the carousel.
“I never thought we’d be able to gather like this so peacefully,” Veronika admitted to Pavel.
“Life is full of surprises,” he smiled, putting an arm around her shoulders. “The main thing is that Lyuba’s happy. She’s got a big family now.”
Veronika looked at her daughter, whose clear laughter rang through the park, and thought about the road they’d traveled. Two years ago she’d been an exhausted woman who feared every call from her mother-in-law and counted every kopeck. Now a new path lay before her—with self-confidence, financial stability, and people who truly valued her.
“So when are you going to introduce me to your parents?” she asked Pavel suddenly.
“Whenever you want,” he said. “They’ve long wanted to meet the woman who taught me to believe in family again.”
Veronika smiled and squeezed his hand tighter. The sun peeked out from the clouds, bathing the park in golden light. Ahead lay a whole life full of new possibilities and, most importantly, love—real love, without reproaches or tallying up money.
“Mom, look how high I can go!” Lyuba shouted, swinging.
“I see, sweetheart!” Veronika called back. “Fly higher!”
And Lyuba soared—happy and free—just like her mother, who had finally found the strength to defend her right to a decent life.